


Stay

by lurkdusoleil



Series: Bide [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 21:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1124830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lurkdusoleil/pseuds/lurkdusoleil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even reunited soulmates have to figure each other out. (Sequel to Bide)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** possible mentions of any warnings from _Bide_ ; mentions of mental illness/therapy; alcohol consumption
> 
>  **A/N:** This was commissioned by raspberriesandcolfer, who basically said, “I want a sequel to Bide!” and then gave me no rules except _they must bone._ So here we have it, and yes, they do bone. Many many thanks to istytehcrawk, neyronrose, and fmhartz91 for betaing and making sure I was thinking things through.

Blaine rushes out of the coffee shop and into Lane’s car, bouncing and flailing and stomping his feet like a kid at how _happy_ he suddenly feels. The excitement, the anticipation, the _possibilities_ and _potential_ with Kurt--they exist again, they are here and he’s going to take advantage of them. Illusion has become, in some way, reality, and it’s confusing and beautiful and Blaine aches for it to happen _now_.

He gets to Lane’s, and she buzzes him up into her apartment without a word spoken. Blaine sees why when he gets up--she’s rumpled and half-asleep, her braids tangled and weirdly out of place, hands rubbing at her eyes as she yawns. 

“Did you fill it up?” she asks without preamble. 

Blaine fidgets. “Um...it’s like...three-quarters full. But I have news.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him and sighs. 

“I’m gonna get something to drink. You go sit down and be less...perky.” 

He sits on her ragged couch and folds his hands in his lap to keep from checking his phone, hoping that it is somehow no longer dead and he can use it to get in touch with Kurt. She walks in a moment later with her hair back in place and a tall can of energy drink in her hand, which she drinks deeply as she plops herself onto her coffee table in front of him. 

“Okay,” she says, holding the can as though ready to need more any second. “So...what happened.” 

Blaine tells her. He tells her _everything._ She sits quiet and listens, showing no surprise, only sipping at her drink as she keeps her dark, bloodshot eyes on him. 

When he finishes the story of how he finally let Kurt go and move on, she holds up a hand. 

“Hold on,” she says. “You said he left, you felt the connection sever, but you still had a...a need to come back here?” 

“That’s what I need to tell you,” Blaine says. “I went to that coffee shop down the street, and there he was.” 

“Kurt?” 

“Yes. In the flesh.” 

Lane sets her drink down and slumps a bit. 

“So he...manifested?” 

“No, that’s the thing,” Blaine explains. “He was alive this whole time. The--the part of him that was still here was only a part, the rest kept going. So when I let the ghost of Kurt move on, it--it sort of snapped back together with the rest of him, I guess. This Kurt is our age, he’s living right here in New York. He has the memories of me and his ghost and some of the past life. They just hit him.” 

Lane stares down at the floor, eyes wide. 

“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” she says. “Not even a rumor. That’s--that’s incredible. Totally fucking insane.” 

“I know, right? Just...he’s perfect, Lane. We’re gonna talk as soon as I can charge my phone--” 

“I want to meet him,” she says, and when she looks up, there’s a spark in her, something deeply excited and almost _happy._ “Blaine, you have to introduce us, as soon as possible--” 

“Wait, wait. Um.” He clears his throat. “We kind of...just met. Sort of. I mean, it’s weird. Can we...have a little while to figure it out? I promise I’ll introduce you, but it’s really confusing right now.” 

“You realize I’m probably the one person you know who could help clear things up.” 

“I realize that,” Blaine assures, “but I’m saying that our _feelings_ are going to be confused. I think we should sort out how we’re feeling about each other before we bring someone else into it.” 

Lane grimaces, but she nods. 

“Fine. But I want to be kept in the loop. I’ve got your number, Blaine, I’m gonna use it.” 

Blaine smiles. 

“I look forward to it.” 

\-- 

**Kurt:** I’m looking forward to discussing some of the finer memories we share, Mr. Anderson. I’m free tomorrow. 

**Blaine:** Tomorrow it is. 

**Kurt:** Three blocks east of the coffee shop we met at is my actual coffee shop. Meet me at noon? 

**Blaine:** I’ll be there. 

Blaine stares at the text messages all morning. The only time he doesn’t is when he showers and dresses as well as he can, hoping to make up for being a wreck the day before. He chooses a red polo with a black and white collar, and pairs it with some dark jeans. He feels attractive and confident in it, and he shaves carefully and slicks his hair _just_ a little too much, but he wants to feel and look put-together. 

And the rest of the time, he looks at the text messages, until it’s time to hop the train and head over. 

He leaves his cell phone in his pocket for that, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t think about it. 

\-- 

He arrives a little early, and Kurt’s not there. But he goes ahead and orders coffee, and then he’s hit with a little inspiration. 

“Um--excuse me,” he says to the barista, pulling out about twice as much money as his order needs. “Do you--have a regular here? Named Kurt? Tall, handsome--” 

“Yes, I do know him,” she says, a little warily, but Blaine assumes that most strange people who come in don’t ask about other customers. 

“I’m--I’m meeting him here, but I don’t want to assume what he wants, so can I just--leave some extra money up here for you, and it can pay for whatever he wants when he arrives?” 

The girl smiles, and then takes the money, slipping it into the till. 

“Done. He’ll like that. Want me to tell him it was you, or keep it a secret?” 

“A secret,” Blaine says with a smile, and she nods. 

“He likes to sit by the window,” she offers, as he heads to the end of the line for his coffee. 

Blaine offers her a grin and takes his cup to the window to wait. Kurt arrives about ten minutes later, squeezing in just as the clock hits noon and waving at Blaine, looking flustered as he gets in line for his coffee, shuffling some folders with messy papers inside and trying to stuff them in his already-full bag. 

Blaine just smiles and watches as he gets his coffee, and as his money is turned down. He looks confused until the barista says something, at which point he turns to look right at Blaine. 

Blaine can tell immediately that the barista gave it away, because she gives him an exaggerated, playful shrug and a _face._ He just blushes and tries not to smile too widely as Kurt picks up his coffee and a plate of biscotti and weaves his way through the shop to their table. 

“Thank you for the coffee,” Kurt says, slipping into his seat. “Unnecessary, but appreciated.” 

The way Kurt’s smiling, a little giddy and breathless, makes Blaine want to start pumping his fist and whooping. Instead, he smiles back and leans forward, laughing a little at himself as he gathers his courage. “Well, I...kind of wanted this to be a date, so.” 

Kurt bites his lips and nods as he brings his coffee up to hide his mouth. God, he’s adorable. “So. In light of the nature of this meeting, shall we get to know each other before we start really talking?” 

And it’s that simple for about an hour. Blaine learns tons about Kurt--about his family, his friends, his life in Ohio. He talks about himself. It’s...exactly like any first date, albeit a particularly good one. They eat the biscotti, they drink their coffee, they engage. 

But once they’re officially caught up, it gets awkward. 

“So...we should probably at least touch on...the weird stuff,” Kurt falters out, his hands fidgeting around his cup. 

“I agree,” Blaine says at length, but he has no idea where to start. “Um...is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss?” 

Kurt thinks for a moment, and then he looks up and gives Blaine a once-over. 

“You’re looking much better than you did yesterday,” he says, and before Blaine can offer a thank you, he shakes his head. “Are you actually okay? I mean, let’s go on the assumption that this is not just some elaborate prank or hallucinogens in the water system. I--I have memories of you being...pretty messed up, to be honest.” 

Blaine settles back in his chair and licks his lips. Even now, he doesn’t feel quite himself. Despite how amazing Kurt has made him feel over the past twenty four hours, just by existing, there’s...still a lot that he went through. There are still things he needs to sort through. And Kurt can see that. Blaine has to admit it to himself. 

“I will be?” Blaine answers uncertainly, unwilling to let Kurt wait anymore while he thinks himself into circles. “I mean...it was a rough week. A lot...happened.” 

“I know. And you were sick for most of it, and walked in looking like death yesterday. Smelling like it, too,” Kurt adds teasingly. 

Blaine hangs his head and laughs. 

“Sorry about that,” he says. “I did just lose...well...you.” 

Kurt shifts, looking uncomfortable. 

“I’m not really...comfortable thinking of him as me,” Kurt admits. “I mean, if you’re...not insane--and I don’t think you are--these memories are from...someone I _used_ to be. Sort of. It’s kind of like I watched a movie that I only just remembered I starred in, you know?” 

“Yeah, I guess that’s...pretty accurate.” 

“I have the memories and the feelings, is what I’m trying to say, but...I guess I can separate most of them?” 

Blaine nods. 

“Okay,” he tries hesitantly. “So...what you’re saying is...you aren’t like...really strongly affected by the memories? Like they’re kind of removed for you.” 

“Yes. Exactly. Is it like that for you?” 

“It is now,” Blaine says, realizing it even as he says it. “But up until two days ago, it was totally different. I _did_ experience it like it was actually happening. I felt...all the feelings, I felt something like I was actually, physically there. It’s...it was really strong.” 

Kurt nods. 

“I--I have memories of...um...seeing you experience that?” Kurt says. “I mean, it’s fuzzy and confusing. Like, this...this ghost me--” he lowers his voice, like he’s afraid to be heard despite the relative emptiness of the shop, “--it’s like...I can’t quite grasp what he was doing. There are...blank spots, and stuff that feels like I’m remembering a dream. It just doesn’t make sense.” 

“I have a friend,” Blaine says. “She’s...kind of an expert on this...stuff. Paranormal stuff.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow, and Blaine laughs. 

“No, I mean she’s about as close to the real thing as I’ve ever heard of,” Blaine explains. “She’s...she wants to meet you, wants to help us figure this out.” 

Kurt nods. 

“I could meet her,” he says. “If anyone can clear some of this up, I’d be grateful. I’m still not entirely convinced it’s real.” 

That kind of...hurts, actually. The things he’d felt...even as unbelievable as they were, they were--are--real. And strong. 

“I guess I understand that,” he offers anyway. 

And then there’s a hand over his, and Blaine finds himself turning his own hand to grasp it. 

“Can I ask you something? A favor, if you will?” 

“Of course.” 

“Try to remember something for me?” Kurt smiles sadly and squeezes his hand. “I’m not...the Kurt you met last week. I’m totally different. And...I understand that you might be a little bit in mourning, and that’s fine. But I don’t want to become a replacement for an actual ghost. I like you, Blaine. I want to get to know you. But I want you to get to know me, as well.” 

Blaine feels overwhelmed, emotional, and he tries not to tremble as he squeezes back. 

“I want that, too.” 

“Good.” Kurt smiles. “But I do know that you lost someone, and in the interest of not taking advantage of your feelings for someone else, and not hurting us both...I’d like to be friends. Get to know you...take it slow.” 

That’s perfectly reasonable, and Blaine finds himself in full agreement despite the strong desire to lean over and kiss Kurt right on his coffee-warm mouth. 

“That sounds nice.” 

\-- 

And it would’ve been nice, in theory. 

Until. 

“Kurt? Kurt, are you listening?” 

Kurt sighs and looks up from where he’d been staring at Blaine’s mouth. They’re sitting in Blaine's kitchen, at his tiny round table, sharing a box of cheesecake bites Kurt had insisted he try. It’s their fourth date, and Blaine’s...Blaine’s smitten. And it’s hard to focus when the guy he likes is unable to look away from his lips. 

“No, I’m not. Sorry.” 

Blaine’s heart sinks a little bit. “Oh. Um. Okay. Uh--” 

“Blaine, I’m having trouble processing something I remember and my feelings on the subject now.” 

Blaine nods, and doesn’t quite know what to say. Thankfully, Kurt seems to be embracing his charge and continues right on. 

“I know we said we’d take things slow,” Kurt begins. “And I know I’m the one that brought that up in the first place. But I need to ask you--are you attracted to me?” 

Blaine startles. 

“Oh--I mean, yes, of course, Kurt,” Blaine says. “You’re--you’re gorgeous, I--” 

“I mean...I have all these memories of us being...intimate...and it’s been confusing trying to figure out if I’m feeling this strongly because of that or because of us, right here, right now.” 

_Oh._

“I get what you mean,” Blaine says quietly. “I--I’ve thought about it, Kurt. I mean, I basically _experienced_ us together, and...of course I’ve thought about it with you. It was...it was amazing.” 

“It was amazing for them,” Kurt corrects. “We wouldn’t know about the two of _us_ until we...progressed to that point.” 

“You’re...absolutely right.” 

They end up staring at each other, and the silence draws out as they both wait for the other to act. Kurt is _beautiful_ and _god_ every memory Blaine has, they fit together _perfectly._ And Blaine can’t help but think of all the nights since they really met in the here and now that he lay in bed thinking of the possibilities between them as he touched himself. 

And then the tension inside Blaine reaches an unbearable peak, and he _has_ to do something, or he’ll explode. “Does that mean you’re...thinking about it?” 

Kurt bites his bottom lip and nods, finally looking up right into Blaine’s eyes. His pupils are blown, and he looks--god, he looks-- 

But they decided to take it slow, they-- 

“Please let me kiss you,” Blaine finds himself begging, and then Kurt’s nodding and he’s reaching out to cup Kurt’s cheek and-- 

It's both like and not like the memories of the kisses between their past selves. There's a brief familiarity in Kurt's mere presence and the shape of his lips, but he moves differently, smells differently, and it takes Blaine only a few moments to adjust and realize that he isn't kissing Kurt _again_. He's kissing him for the first time. 

It's that thought that allows him to let go. Kurt's lips are simply warm, smooth and slightly waxy with chapstick, tasting faintly sweet beyond the the base of him, something like skin and breath and man, a taste that pervades into scent, into feeling beneath fingertips and _god_ will he taste like that on his neck his belly his hips, can Blaine spend all his time finding out? 

"I am very stupid," Kurt mumbles, hums, against his lips. "You should just forget everything I've ever said." 

"Mmhm." Blaine's not willing to move his lips away enough to form the slightest word. He's here, he doesn't want to go anywhere else, it will tear a piece off himself away-- 

"So we should start over," Kurt suggests breathlessly, and his mouth isn't on Blaine's mouth so Blaine puts his lips on Kurt's neck and he makes just the prettiest sounds. "Hi, I'm Kurt. Can we go to your bedroom?" 

_That_ is something Blaine can justify pulling away for, but Kurt takes that opportunity to change his mind about the proximity of their lips. He pulls them together, and Blaine, halfway risen from his seat, tilts with the force and sends them crashing to the cool tile floor. Blaine mutters a quick "ow" as he lands on his hip painfully, but he doesn't allow Kurt to pull back, most likely to check on him. Instead, he curves around until Kurt is on his back and Blaine is half-covering him, legs tangled together and chests pressed together as Blaine pulls Kurt up by the shoulders to continue kissing him deeply. Kurt’s hands twine into the hair at the back of his head, and it's wonderful. 

"Bed?" Kurt requests again, and Blaine shakes his head emphatically. 

"Nuh, here," he gasps. "Right here." 

They rut together right there on the kitchen floor, stopping only to frantically undo their pants and shove them down their sweating, writhing thighs before they're haphazardly lined up, one of Blaine's hands between them to hold them together and give them a channel to thrust into, and their lips stay pressed together even though they aren't kissing anymore, just breathing each other's air, moans and breaths and whispers and laughter until they shudder and clench into release, grinding and clutching and panting. 

"Wow." 

Blaine has not a clue who actually said it, nor why it's so funny, but suddenly they're clinging to each other, laughing, burying their faces into wherever they can hide, giggling against sweat-tacky skin and shaking shoulders. 

“Well, so much for slow,” Kurt says wryly as they settle, cuddling up to Blaine and playing with the collar of his shirt between his long, pale fingers. They haven’t even bothered to pull their pants up or wipe up the come, they just can’t seem to be bothered, and Blaine doesn’t even care. 

That was _incredible._ He’d lost himself in Kurt, and it was everything he wanted before and everything he can _have_ now and Kurt is gorgeous and unselfconsciously sexy right now and it’s uncomfortable on the kitchen floor but Blaine just doesn’t _care._ Kurt’s warm and breathing deeply where his nose is buried in Blaine’s shoulder and he’s _alive_ and fuck he might just be Blaine’s. 

“I think somehow we’ll manage to get over that.” 

Kurt hums his agreement, biting Blaine’s shoulder playfully, and it’s with giggles that they leap up and chase each other shufflingly into the bedroom to get more comfortable. 

\-- 

Now that he and Kurt are intimate, Blaine finds that his brain has unlocked a whole lot of confusion. 

In the moment, between them, when they fuck, Blaine feels entirely present. Kurt just seems to draw him out, make him pay attention, get out of his _head._ And even when they’re just sitting together, having coffee or marathoning television shows or simply studying quietly in each other’s presence, there’s something about Kurt _right there_ that keeps Blaine calm. Kurt just exists so wholly in the world, he inhabits every bit of space he can take up, and Blaine quickly finds himself loving him for it. 

He’s just...confused. Because when Kurt is _not_ there, it’s easy to start remembering, and it’s hard to admit, but he finds himself comparing and speculating and, frankly, overthinking. 

Blaine wanted this so badly with the other Kurt. He ached for it, he wanted the connection and the sweetness and the love that seems to come so naturally for them. He wanted Kurt to have the opportunity to feel it in return, half-empty ghost as he was, and he had been willing to give up hope of a real, living relationship for the echo of something with Kurt. He’d been willing to let himself go without arms around him, without lips on his, without the connection and intimacy that comes with sex, all for the mere impression of it with his soulmate. 

But now...now his soulmate is flesh and blood. And someone he’s still getting to know, even if he forgets it sometimes. This Kurt has the old Kurt in him, in a lot of ways. After all, as far as he knows, the old Kurt just snapped into this new Kurt, this present Kurt, and of course that would incorporate into him in some way, wouldn’t it? 

And of course, that’s when the doubt creeps in. How much of Blaine is really falling for Kurt, here, as he is now, and how much of him is still clinging to something that Kurt was? 

“Can we...talk to Lane?” 

Kurt glances up from his sketchpad and blinks at Blaine as though he’s waking up. “Did she finally insist on meeting me?” 

Blaine chuckles. “Well, she’s been doing that from the beginning. But...no, I wanted to talk to her...for us, I guess.” 

Kurt reaches over and grabs his hand from where it had been clutching his notebook. He lets it fall away, and turns his hand to wrap into Kurt’s. 

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks. He looks suspicious, eyebrows drawn together, lips pulled down in a tense frown. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Blaine assures. “I just...I want to sort some things out in my head, and Lane offered her help.” 

Kurt relaxes and smiles at him a little sadly, and Blaine’s grateful for his sympathy. He squeezes Kurt’s hand, and Kurt squeezes back. 

“Give her a call,” Kurt says. “I’d love to meet her.” 

\-- 

It takes some negotiation, but instead of going to the club Lane suggested, they end up at some dusky piano bar that Blaine actually really likes. The wood’s all dark and polished, the lighting’s low, it’s got some amazing art up on the walls, and it’s… _comforting._ The kind of place Blaine can see himself frequenting. Kurt pulls him to a booth in the corner, sliding around the circular bench around the table, settling them right in the center, leaving room on either side of them. And there they sit, sipping at their drinks, shoulders and legs pressed together, heads low and brushing as they talk. 

“Jesus, look at you two.” Lane drops into the seat next to Blaine, a beer bottle in her hand. She swings her hair over her shoulder and offers Kurt a smile. “I take it you’re Kurt.” 

“Hi,” Kurt says, waving at her with a goofy little tilt of his head, and Blaine grins at him. 

“Okay. So, business. What do you want to talk about?” 

All eyes are on Blaine, and he clears his throat. “Well...um...I guess I just wonder if you know how...all this would’ve happened. With...Kurt kind of...snapping together?” 

Kurt just looks at him, perfectly even, and Blaine feels uncomfortable under the gaze until Lane leans back in her seat and pulls his attention. 

“You said his spirit basically split itself in two back when he died,” Lane says. “The part that was waiting for you stayed behind and the rest moved on. I think you already came to the conclusion that when the remnant moved on, he met back with the other parts of himself.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“So what’s not simple about that?” Lane asks casually, sipping her beer. “He had something tethering that ghost you met, and when the tether broke, he joined the rest of himself. That asylum ripped him apart, and by facing that down, and letting you go, he got to mend himself. Is that confusing?” 

“I think Blaine’s wondering if there’s something in me that’s still separate,” Kurt chimes in, and Blaine hears the stiffness in his voice. “Did the old me just blend in with the new one?” 

“You tell me,” Lane says with a shrug. “How have you changed, Kurt? Because neither of us knew you before.” 

“Well, I invited my friend Rachel to talk about that a little,” Kurt admits. “She doesn’t know anything about this, except I met someone. I figured if anyone would notice me acting differently, it’s her.” 

Blaine feels utterly ashamed to admit it even just to himself, but a part of him is excited to hear this. He wants to know if the Kurt he knew first is still in there somewhere. He loved that Kurt, and he loves this Kurt--could he really have them both? 

“Well, let’s hear it from her.” 

A few minutes later, Rachel does appear--she’s a tiny whirlwind of brown hair and loud voice, and Kurt grins when she appears until he sees her face. 

She looks...devastated. 

“Kurt,” she whines, sitting down next to him and slumping onto his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” Kurt asks, putting an arm around her shoulder. 

“Ugh,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I just broke up with Brody.” 

The name sends a chill through Blaine, who just stares, uncomprehending. Next to him, Lane nudges his foot with her own, _listen_ , and he nudges back, _I know._

“So was it true?” 

“Yes,” Rachel says. “I can’t believe I was dating a hooker.” 

Kurt looks back at Blaine with a strained look, shrugging. 

“Rachel’s boyfriend was making money on the side by sleeping with high-powered businesswomen,” he explains. “We found his beeper and wad of cash and our friend Santana did some more digging into it.” 

“Wait, seriously?” Lane says. “He just...snuck around with other women for cash?” 

“Basically,” Kurt says. He turns to Rachel, who’s sitting up and sipping her drink. “I mean, you knew he was sleeping around, didn’t you?” 

“We had a very adult relationship,” Rachel says defensively. “But I didn’t know he was getting _paid_ for it.” 

“What’s the matter with that?” 

Rachel looks at Lane like she’s crazy, and Lane is frowning at Rachel judgmentally. Blaine cuts in, panicked. He definitely doesn’t want this to turn into a battle with him and Kurt in the middle. 

“What matters, I think, is that Brody violated her trust,” Blaine offers. Rachel waves a hand in his direction. 

“That’s exactly it!” she says. “Anyway, I don’t know. Do you really think I should leave him? Tell me it was the right choice so I can move on.” 

Blaine’s immediate instinct is to insist she forget him immediately. If it’s the same Brody he remembers, he’s trouble, he’s _dangerous--_

“If you can’t trust each other, and he doesn’t respect you enough to tell you the truth, he doesn’t deserve you,” Kurt says simply. 

Rachel sighs. “You’re right. We’re done.” She takes a drink, and then wiggles in her seat, adjusting her posture and apparently her entire attitude, because within a few moments she’s beaming at Blaine. 

“Now, I need to properly meet the boy who stole away the only reliable man in my life.” 

“Really, Rachel?” 

“Oh, hush, Kurt.” She sticks her hand out to Blaine. “Rachel Berry, future star, Kurt’s best friend and roommate.” 

Blaine shakes her hand. 

“Blaine Anderson,” he says. “Um...you go to NYADA, right?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

“I’m at Tisch,” Blaine offers, and Rachel smiles delightedly. 

“Are you a performer?” At Blaine’s nod, she squeals and claps. “We’ll have to sing together sometime. How on earth did you and Kurt meet, though?” 

Blaine hesitates for a second, and a tense moment passes until Kurt laughs and leans into him. 

“He walked into the coffee shop,” he says, exaggerating the nostalgic tone, and Blaine relaxes and grins. 

“Stumbled in,” Blaine corrects him. 

“I was drinking my coffee and he came in looking like he was hungover.” 

“I was,” Blaine offers, and it’s true. He just wasn’t hungover on alcohol. 

Kurt laughs again. 

“We had coffee, we exchanged numbers, we...just sort of happened,” he says, and there’s weight in the words, but Rachel looks completely unaware. 

“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” she says. “He just walked into the coffee shop you happened to be at, Kurt?” 

“Pretty much. Not even my usual shop,” Kurt says, and he’s looking at Blaine now, and the weight is different. Fond… _happy._

Maybe Kurt’s just as confused as he is, but if he’s also as happy as Blaine is with him, Blaine knows they can work it out. 

“Wasn’t mine either.” 

“Well, then it was fate,” Rachel announces. “And I’ve never seen you like this, Kurt. It’s like you just...came alive.” She smirks. “So I call best woman.” 

“Rachel!” 

\-- 

Outside, the girls get the first two cabs, and Kurt and Blaine hold hands, waiting for another to come by. It’s too late, and they’re a little bit too drunk, to want to deal with the subway. But it’s a nice night, and they just hold onto each other and wait. 

Blaine, musing over the night, suddenly remembers. 

“I can’t believe Brody is around,” he says. “And...and I sort of run across him, again.” 

There’s a definite part of him that’s wary. Brody killed him, once. It tends to leave a strong negative impression, and to know that he’s only a few people removed from meeting him again in this lifetime is making Blaine a little nervous. 

“You know--he’s not the one you remember,” Kurt says carefully. Blaine blinks. 

“Well--I mean...they have the same name, do they look--” 

“Blaine,” Kurt says, his voice suddenly firm, his hand pulling away from Blaine’s. “He’s not the guy you remember. What does it matter if he looks the same, if he’s the same...soul, or whatever? He’s got a different life, now, and he certainly doesn’t remember anything. He’s not even remotely related to me.” 

Blaine shakes his head to clear it. 

“But--I definitely remember it,” he protests. “Kurt, I watched him shoot me--” 

“You watched someone from a past life shoot someone that _used_ to be you,” Kurt says, somehow infusing into the words just how ridiculous he finds it. “Blaine, that’s not now.” 

He turns to Blaine, and he looks very cold and distant. Blaine doesn’t like it at all. 

“Can you even separate reality from your head anymore?” Kurt snaps. “Can you separate past and present?” 

“What? Kurt, of course I can, why--” 

“Because you certainly can’t seem to separate the past from the present with _me_ ,” he continues. “You just can’t let it go, can you?” 

“Kurt, are you--” 

“No, I don’t want to hear it,” Kurt says, huffing out his disbelief. “I don’t want to hear the excuses, or the rationalizations. _I’m not your dead boyfriend, Blaine._ I’m alive, I’m right here. And maybe there was a part of me missing, but there _isn’t_ anymore, and it feels like you only care about that one part and the rest of me is just along for the ride.” 

“Kurt, that’s--that’s--” 

Partially true. He’s been so focused on the past--but it’s such an important part of them, how can he let it go without a thought-- 

“I can’t wait for you to get over someone you think is me,” Kurt says. And then he strides to the curb, hails an oncoming cab, and gets in, leaving Blaine standing outside the bar, alone. 

\-- 

It takes three days for Blaine to figure himself out enough to text Kurt. 

He hasn’t even realized how confused he’s been. And it’s true--Kurt shouldn’t have to just wait for him to get over things. And it’s a sign that they definitely did take things too fast--he barely got to know Kurt before they gave in to the feelings that were left over. And he knows he loves Kurt, he knows he loves the Kurt he’s been with this whole time, all parts of him. But it must have been hard on Kurt to feel like there was only one part of him that mattered to Blaine. That Blaine was only with him for a piece of himself he didn’t even know until a couple of months ago. 

And there’s a couple of decades of Kurt that he hadn’t even focused on. He didn’t ask about it, he didn’t try to talk to Kurt about their lives before each other. He’d just assumed he knew Kurt, because he knew the old part of him. But Kurt’s right--that’s not the only thing he is. And Blaine was an idiot for getting too caught up in it. 

So three days, and he allows himself to really mourn. He did lose somebody, and that person might be a part of his life in some small way, but he doesn’t get to define how much. Only Kurt does. He has to let Kurt sort it out and take whatever Kurt will give him in the meantime. And he knows he’ll give everything of himself to Kurt in return. Kurt deserves that, and Blaine wants to do it. But he has to let go, first. 

Three days. He lies in bed when he’s not in classes, and he just thinks. He thinks about the old Kurt, and the old memories. And they’re fuzzy, now. They’re...fading. Like any memory would. Ever since he let the old Kurt go, he hasn’t been able to access the memories like before--they’re just memories, not experiences he can relive. They’re behind him. Just like the memories of growing up with his brother Cooper, or the Sadie Hawkins dance, or his first boyfriend, or any other number of memories. Those things don’t consume his life. It would be totally unhealthy. And the same thing stands true for this. 

He needs to move on. That old Kurt is, as a person in himself, gone. And now, Kurt, _his_ Kurt, the Kurt he feels growing love for _right now_ who’s flesh and blood and living right here in the city a short subway ride away--he has those memories, too. He does. They’re a part of him. But only because he healed in a way that Blaine won’t begin to comprehend. Because Blaine moved on, and Kurt didn’t, in that past. Blaine doesn’t know what it’s like to be literally missing a part of himself. 

In the present, Kurt is piecing himself back together. And it must be so confusing. Especially because Blaine remembers very clearly something Kurt told him the day they really, truly met-- _I’ve been treated for depression since I was sixteen years old._ He’s never even asked Kurt how his therapy has been going, what it’s been like, what he’s talked about, how he’s feeling. 

He feels about an inch high. 

**Blaine:** Can we meet tomorrow? After your appointment? 

At least he knows when Kurt’s appointments are. Every other week, now, Thursday afternoons. And thankfully, on Wednesday night, Kurt texts back. 

**Kurt:** Meet me outside the office at 3. 

He texts Blaine the address, and that’s it. He just has to show up, and let Kurt know that he’s in this, and he’s ready to be in it entirely. 

\-- 

Kurt walks out of the office looking tired. He stops in front of Blaine, who’s standing just outside waiting, and smiles at him sadly from beyond his crossed arms and stiff shoulders. 

“Hi,” Kurt says. 

“Hi.” 

Kurt dithers, has something more to say, and Blaine waits for it, trying to convey support with just his face. He’s pretty sure he looks like an idiot, but whatever Kurt needs to get it out. 

“Can--can I have a hug?” Kurt asks finally, like he’s rushing out a dirty secret, and Blaine grins and pulls him in. 

“Always,” he says, holding Kurt close, letting him lay his head on Blaine’s shoulder and shudder into him, clutching him around his neck and taking long, deep breaths. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says, finally pulling away after a few minutes of just existing in Blaine’s arms. Blaine reaches down and takes his hand. 

“Don’t be,” he says. “I’m always here for you if you need me.” 

“Do you really mean that?” 

“Of course, Kurt,” Blaine says. “I know I’ve been kind of an idiot about it, but I promise I really want to be.” 

Kurt smiles, and it’s not as sad this time. Blaine likes it. 

“How was your appointment?” 

They turn and start walking--the office is only about a fifteen minute walk from Kurt’s apartment, and they take it easy, not rushing along like everyone they pass. 

“It was...hard,” Kurt says. “It’s hard for me to talk about my problems.” 

Blaine squeezes his hand, and Kurt laughs. 

“I mean, I confused the hell out of my doctor, though,” Kurt continues. “I felt so empty before. And now I’m just...I feel like I’m about to explode _all the time._ Like I got used to feeling like I was only halfway here and now it’s too much.” 

“Is that what you’ve been going for lately?” 

“Pretty much. It’s an adjustment. And once I learned to trust the therapy and found a doctor that was good for me, I learned to _use_ it, you know? My teenage self would’ve been mortified. I used to fight going to appointments when I wasn’t just too tired _not_ to do it.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, you know how teenagers are,” Kurt says. “Someone found out I was going and the rumors about me being crazy started. High school wasn’t the best time for me.” 

“But you love college,” Blaine reminds him. “You got out, right?” 

“Yes. I did. And now I’m doing everything in my power to make my life here the one I’ve always wanted.” 

Blaine halts them and faces Kurt, nervous but needing. 

“And...Kurt, I want to be a part of that,” he says. 

“Then we should talk,” Kurt says. “Come on. I bought eclairs last night and hid them in my room, they should still be there.” 

\-- 

They are still there. And with Rachel and Santana, Kurt’s other roommate, out of the loft, they sit on Kurt’s bed and eat them, hardly caring about ruining dinner or crumbs on the sheets. They just--eat them, and talk. 

“I’m really sorry, Kurt,” Blaine says. “You were right--I was...clinging to something that you’re not. And I want you to know that I want you--not your ghost. _You._ ” 

Kurt sets the box of eclairs on his nightstand and then opens the drawer of it, pulling out a sketchpad. He settles back on the bed, cross-legged, facing Blaine in the same position on the other side. He holds out the sketchpad. 

“Go ahead and look.” 

Blaine takes the pad and opens it up and--there he is. And again, and again. Pages and pages of sketches of Blaine--his face, his hands, him sitting or standing or drinking coffee. All kinds of sketches just--of _him._

“Oh my god, _Kurt,_ ” he says, voice thick with emotion. 

“You’re a fascinating subject,” Kurt says, voice high and giggling with nerves, hands wringing in his lap. 

“This is--this is the old me,” Blaine says on one page. He’s very clearly wearing clothes that belong in the distant past, back from their memories-- 

“No it’s not,” Kurt says. “That’s you now. I just...like the aesthetic of the clothes. I’m trying to modernize them for a project. Maybe bring back a little of what things were like then, too.” 

Blaine flips some more, and there are more outfits drawn, all on him. They’re--they’re stunning, really. Interesting, but classic and polished. He recognizes some modern tailoring in the fit of the clothes, but the collars and cut of the fabrics are definitely not considered modern. 

“They’re beautiful, Kurt.” 

“Thank you,” he says. “And I thought about this a lot, Blaine. About us. And I think...I thought about making a fashion analogy, but I couldn’t quite make it work. But...I talked to my therapist about it, and I think we came up with something better.” 

“What did you come up with?” Blaine asks, a hint of a laugh in his throat. 

“I’ve been thinking of us like a house. I think you’ve wanted to take a house that’s been around and move into it. Just...sort of take up the space that belonged to someone else.” 

Blaine considers, and can’t really deny that. 

“But...I want to build something new,” Kurt continues. “I think we started off with a foundation already in place, but a...a home needs more than that. We already have a basement, and it’s got lots of cool old things left behind in it that we can look at when we want to--but we need something above it, too. Do you...know what I mean?” 

“I do,” Blaine says, and it clicks. 

Oh. It makes a lot of sense. And Blaine looks down, flips the page for something to do, and sits still for a long minute, looking at a sketch of himself. It really strikes him--the loving way he’s drawn, from the depth of detail on the shading of his hands to the delicate, gentle curve of his lips into a smile. It’s a moment, this drawing, a snapshot of him with his head tilted, hands clasped around a coffee cup, staring down at it calmly, that little smile like he’s just _content_ , relaxed and happy and-- 

Does he really _need_ all the things that they once were? Does he need the past that badly? Because Kurt sees him as he is _now_ and the translation of it is a photo that looks like it was drawn to worship his details, to celebrate him in _this_ moment, whenever it took place. Kurt’s not drawing all the things they’ve gone through--he’s viewing things as they come, seeing Blaine--not looking back, but looking up. 

Oh. Blaine’s a fucking idiot. 

“I have been...way too focused on the past,” Blaine admits, quietly, and a trickle of shame runs down into his gut. “It--it was important to me, Kurt, but I shouldn’t have let it make the present less important to me. I’ve been missing out on moments...on everything with you.” 

How many moments like this did Blaine miss, because he wasn’t paying attention? When they was in the bar talking to Rachel and Lane, did he miss a moment of Kurt smiling in the dim light, of him lost in thought and completely and freely beautiful? Did he miss a moment of sunlight across Kurt’s cheek when they studied together? Did he miss the way dust motes would swirl around Kurt like little points of magic burst forth and drawn to Kurt like fireflies in his creaky old apartment? Did he miss the way Kurt’s skin would fade from its flush after they’d fucked, the sweat cooling as the blood receded, the cream slowly blooming from beneath the sweaty pink as they gently drag their fingers and _breathe_ together? 

How many of these little moments has he lost without ever having them in the first place? How many has he just skipped over because he was in a different time in his mind? 

“Please don’t beat yourself up over this,” Kurt says suddenly, and his hands are on Blaine’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears he’d only felt in the periphery. _How many moments--_ “Blaine, please. Just...you know now. I don’t blame you. You went through so much. But I’m right here.” 

He pulls Blaine’s head up, tilts his face up and looks at Blaine intently. 

“Blaine, I’m right here. Right now. This is a moment.” 

He looks at Kurt. _Really_ looks at him. And he’s not the same Kurt as before, he’s really not. There’s something softer in him, something open and honest, and he sweeps his hair differently, he carries himself differently. He has a spread of freckles on his nose and cheeks that’s completely new to Blaine, and Jesus how did he not see them before? They’re stunning, so adorable and sweet, and Blaine remembers a book from when he was a boy, a fairy tale, and he can’t remember what the name was, or the pictures, or the story itself, but he remembers it saying that freckles were kisses from faeries, and only the most beautiful received them because faeries were picky. God, he wishes he could remember it now, that he could show it to Kurt and then pepper his face with kisses, and-- 

And why the hell does he need the book? Kurt’s right here. 

“Hey,” he says. “Have you ever heard that freckles were faerie kisses?” 

Kurt gives him a _look_ , judgmental confusion and amused concern all wrapped up into a flick of the eyebrows and a curl of the corner of his lip, a tilt of his head, a certain shine in his eyes, _fuck_ he’s gorgeous, heartbreakingly, angelically so, Blaine vows never to stop looking and he hopes he follows through-- 

“Uh-huh,” Kurt says, sounding cynical, and Blaine bursts out laughing. 

“I think it’s true,” Blaine says, leaning in and planting a kiss on his nose, and Kurt giggles and leans back. 

“Oh my god, you dork--” 

“Wait, come back, I’m not done--” 

Kurt leans back far enough to collapse on the bed, and Blaine follows him down, kissing his face as he squirms and laughs and playfully bats at Blaine’s shoulders and arms, wriggling and kicking his feet. He’s _ticklish_ and Blaine never knew and _I’m going to discover every one of these little things about him_. 

Finally, he catches Kurt’s mouth, and Kurt stills sharply, gasping. Blaine just melts into him, and Kurt relaxes, returns it in kind, lips giving under his, forming to his, his arms coming up and wrapping around his neck, gentle and unassuming. 

It takes a long time to turn into something heavier. Blaine doesn’t mind taking his time. He runs his hands over Kurt’s body, lingering in the spots that Kurt arches into, playfully brushing along spots that make him laugh. He really _feels_ Kurt’s body, puts an effort into it, memorizing the way Kurt’s chest feels so much broader than his own, the slow spread of his ribs when Blaine kisses his throat and makes him gasp, the twitching of his belly when Blaine’s fingertips skim his hips just above the line of his jeans, light like bubbles on the surface of water--the touches feel like they swirl and pop and get bigger and bigger as they collide, and Blaine feels Kurt start to writhe and pant under him. 

“Please,” he says, thready and unraveling. “Blaine, _please_ touch me--” 

Clothing removed, _sliding_ over their skin, dragging up and off and tossed away, who needs them, they just get in the way. And then it’s skin, acres of skin, ready for Blaine to cultivate, fed and watered with kisses dropped like seeds, and by the time Blaine rocks himself back up to kiss his lips Kurt’s a quivering wreck, hardly able to form words, little noises bursting from his throat, eyes closed, hands wrung into his own hair, body tensing in waves and crashing into Blaine when he is in within reach. 

Kurt rolls him over and kisses him soundly, as though he took in all of Blaine’s little kisses down his body and built them up into one kiss, passionate, open, needy, desperate. He holds Blaine down and kisses him, blots out all else, just the press of their bodies as they move their lips and tongues together with everything else just following behind. And he doesn’t pull back, but Kurt reaches over, tugging Blaine’s lips with him, and fumbles in his nightstand until he has a bottle, which is pressed into Blaine’s hand. 

“Fuck me,” Kurt commands, and Blaine is happy to follow orders. He lays Kurt out on his back and opens him carefully, eyes never leaving Kurt’s face, _studying_ him as he rocks with the thrusting of Blaine’s fingers inside him, his entire arm moving into it, curving and curling down to his fingers to push Kurt further, make him thrash and cry out, and Blaine suddenly remembers, _this man is my soulmate._

Blaine’s eyes prickle, and he slides his fingers fully inside, three together, and holds them, soaking up Kurt’s pleading sobs but doing nothing about them but allowing the pressure, leaning in and brushing his lips over Kurt’s cheek. 

“Do you think--do you think we knew each other even before the past we know?” he asks quietly, spreading his fingers in little pulses to match Kurt’s heartbeat. Kurt shudders and looks up at him, and he smiles. 

“Probably,” Kurt answers, raw and truthful. His breath hitches, and he blushes heavily, looking down and suddenly, absurdly shy. “But if there was ever a life where I didn’t--didn’t feel this...Blaine, I’d rather not remember that.” 

Blaine laughs, pleasure and gratefulness and the thrill of understanding, love and happiness and absolute inability _not_ to. 

He slides his fingers away and slips on the condom and lube, hands trembling and messing up at least twice as Kurt nudges him impatiently and teases him. Blaine just laughs and lowers himself into Kurt’s arms and legs, letting himself be wrapped up and kissed until he’s sliding in easily, rising up and tilting into Kurt, tangling with him and moving and it’s slow and messy and there’s more kissing than Blaine has ever experienced while he’s inside someone, more tender touches and whispering and laughter, sheer joy that weaves in with desire until it all falls away. He ends up with Kurt’s legs wrapped up around his ribs, heels pressing somewhere around his shoulders, urging him as he fucks him harder and faster at his own request, arms wrapped around Kurt’s thighs and fingers digging into sweaty flesh to _feel_ the vibrations and the impact of his hips into Kurt’s ass. 

“Kurt,” he gasps, getting close, hiking up and onto his knees entirely so he can pound into Kurt, who’s whining high and long, stuttering it out. Kurt winds up, up, up, and then whimpers, “Fuck--fuck me.” 

Blaine happily obliges, and he latches onto Kurt’s neck and sucks hard enough to leave a mark, pulling the skin between his teeth as Kurt arches and tugs Blaine’s hair and jerks around him, coming with a wail, his body tightening up and then releasing, collapsing, legs and arms wide, and he’s so _open_ and lax and Blaine wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist and hauls him down, accepting his surrender, building for another solid minute, relishing Kurt’s little cries at every thrust, twitching through the oversensitivity until Blaine curls around him and comes, sobbing into his collarbone and clutching at him even after he’s finished and softening, the entirety of his body going limp and tired. 

Kurt scratches at his scalp beneath his sweaty hair and starts humming. 

“What song is that?” Blaine asks after a few minutes. 

Kurt shrugs. “I have no idea.” 

Blaine snorts and giggles, almost hysterical, and Kurt laughs heartily. 

“Oh my god. Please always be goofy after sex.” 

Blaine nips his clavicle playfully and lifts his head, laying his chin on Kurt’s chest and smiling as he gently slips free from him, leaving the condom half-slipping on himself and not caring one fucking bit as he just _sinks_ onto Kurt. 

“I will try.” 

Kurt smiles and strokes his cheek. 

“Now would be a perfect time to confess your undying love for me,” Kurt says, and Blaine honestly doesn’t know if that’s a joke or not. 

“Do you need me to confess it right now? I was hoping to make a _thing_ of it.” 

Kurt raises an eyebrow. 

“Oh, well if it’s going to be a _thing,_ Blaine Anderson, I have _expectations--_ ” 

Blaine laughs and leans up to kiss him. 

“I don’t know if I can top the faerie kisses I thing.” 

Kurt lets out the loudest, most _obnoxious_ laugh, and Blaine grins and _loves_ it so much that just starts to plan his _thing_ right then and there. It really cannot happen soon enough. 

He gives Kurt another kiss. 

“I guess I’ll try, though.”


End file.
